Poison in the Blood

by Robyn Bachar

  “I am enamored of your breasts. I merely have a newfound appreciation for your neck. Did you enjoy biting me in your dream?” Michael’s voice was low, filled with promises of naughty pleasures, and I shivered with carnal delight.

  “It ended before I could truly enjoy it. I suppose there will be only one way to find out,” I said with a wicked smile.

  Michael chuckled and ended the discussion by taking me fast and hard until I was overwhelmed with a climax. He repeated the process again and again—his stamina appeared to have quite improved with his change in condition, and I had no arguments. When he finally collapsed in my arms, blissful and completely spent, I stroked his hair and reveled in the rosy glow of our lovemaking. It was a bit strange to think that though he spilled his seed inside me, there was no potential for a child. Not that I was anxious for more at the moment, but there was something sad about it. The ending of an era.

  When we settled in for a few more hours of sleep, I dreamed of a new era, hopeful for a time when we would spend eternity together, pale and ageless and in love for centuries to come.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Michael and I agreed to refrain from asking Simon about the possibility of performing the ritual, and instead to concentrate on the tasks at hand. After all, there was no point in riling Simon if I was killed by Infernus assassins during the trial. The idea that evil faeries might punch through the wards and pop into Josephine’s home at any moment and slay me kept me in a constant state of fear.

  We reinforced the wards around the building to keep all faeries out, but I wasn’t confident in their strength. Librarians aren’t adept at creating wards. A sorcerer or a summoner’s aid would have been preferable, but of course we weren’t in close contact with any. I wondered if Justine’s guardian magic would make her an expert at casting wards, and I resolved to ask her at the next opportunity. I had not spoken with her since our meeting with Horatio, and I hoped that things were going well between her and Dr. Bennett.

  Finally a note arrived from Justine requesting that I join her at her home, from which we would be traveling to Faerie for the trial. I was pleased that we were given notice, and that I was not transported away at an inopportune moment. I had no idea what sort of attire was appropriate for a faerie trial, so I chose one of my mourning ensembles and hoped for the best. When I arrived at Justine’s I found her dressed in a red and gold gown reminiscent of a British military uniform; it seemed an odd choice for an American. I wondered if she had any ill will toward the crown.

  Dr. Bennett met my curious gaze with another negative shake of his head, and I resisted the urge to sigh. What could possibly be the delay? Was he waiting for the end of the trial? Surely Justine would have another case to investigate after that, and another after that. She was a guardian, so I doubted she ever had much free time.

  “Are you prepared?” Justine asked.

  “Aside from my timepiece, what else do I need?”

  “That is the only physical requirement. Are you mentally prepared? You’ll need to be brave,” she replied.

  I nodded, holding my head high. “I am prepared. I will not let you down.”

  The guardian smiled and then motioned for me to sit. “I have faith in you, Emily. Have things been going well for you at home?”

  “Quite well. We have settled into a sort of normalcy. Oh, that reminds me. We have reinforced the wards around the house, but I’m not certain how strong they are. Can you add any additional support? Or suggest someone who can?”

  “Yes, of course. I will see to the matter tomorrow, if you wish.”

  “Thank you.”

  Dr. Bennett cleared his throat. “Have you been feeling well? Any remaining pain in your arm?”

  I flexed my fingers, manipulating the once-broken arm and wrist with no pain at all. “No, it feels fine. And no lingering effects from the blood loss, either. You do excellent work.”

  “Good, good. Glad to hear it.” He smiled and blushed at my praise, and I found it charming.

  We exchanged polite small talk over tea and dainties, each of us trying not to stare at the clock on the mantel as it inexorably ticked down to the time we were to leave. My heart pounded louder with the passing of each second as the hand approached the stroke of seven.

  When the first bell chimed, we were blinked out of Miss Dubois’s parlor and into another enormous marble hall. This one was round, with seating that rose in tiers from the floor to nearly the ceiling in row upon row packed with faerie spectators. We stood at the floor level, surrounded by noise and chaos, and I turned to Justine for guidance. She stepped forward and bowed to Horatio, who guided us to seats behind a large wooden desk. To our left was another desk with Infernus faeries seated at it, and to our right the faerie council sat upon three thrones.

  From the safety of my seat I continued to examine the audience. Many more Infernus faeries were seated in the rows behind our opposition’s desk, shimmering waves of heat rising from their crowd. The rest of the faeries were a startling array of every sort of element in nature and color of the rainbow. Some wore glittering, shining wings, while others favored fur, whiskers and tails. Claws, fangs, beaks, leaves, branches, flames, icicles—I could watch them for hours and still not be able to list the myriad details on display. It was miraculous that the faeries were so different, yet all one people.

  And the fashion! Lord and Lady, it was a lesson in clothing throughout the ages. I was possessed of a sudden guilt for thinking unkindly of Simon’s wardrobe after seeing so much ancient apparel in attendance, and yet some were quite stylishly dressed, as though they had been shopping in the most popular shops in Paris. Perhaps they had been, hidden among the mortals with the proprietors never the wiser to the supernatural nature of their customers.

  The crowd continued to buzz with anticipation until Lady Hippolyta rose. “Enough.” Her voice echoed through the room, and the crowd quieted to an eerie silence. “We are gathered here to discuss a grave matter. The Infernus clan stands accused of kidnapping and murdering magician women from locations spread across the realm of Earth. Because this matter was brought to us by the Oberon of Britain, this council will be overseeing this trial, and our judgment will be the sole and final verdict.”

  “The Infernus clan objects on the grounds that there is no evidence of any of this within our stronghold, as the council has seen for themselves,” a male Infernus faerie said as he rose from the desk to our left.

  “Your objection is noted, Iago, but we feel that there is enough evidence to continue, and are proceeding with the trial,” Hippolyta replied. “Horatio, please call your first witness.”

  Horatio rose from his seat in front of us. He was so short in stature that it did not have the stately effect of Iago’s objection. “I call Guardian Justine Dubois.”

  Justine rose and walked to a single wooden chair placed between the two desks and directly across from the council. She sat, primly placing her parasol across her lap. Did she expect to be attacked, or did she carry her weapon everywhere she traveled?

  Pacing in front of the desk, Horatio launched into a series of questions about the murders Justine had investigated in London and the progress of the case. It was all information I was familiar with, but I listened intently nonetheless, and kept a shrewd eye on the reactions of the Infernus faeries. It was difficult to judge how they felt, because their forms were quite different from the humans I was used to reading—flaming hair was distracting in itself, like the hypnotic flickering of a candle in a dark room on a cold winter’s night.

  After Horatio’s questions were over, Iago rose and approached Justine.

  “Did you personally witness the abduction of any of these alleged victims?” he asked.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then how do you know that they were abducted, and did not willingly travel to Faerie?”

  Justine frowned. “I doubt that any of these women willingly sacrificed themselves to be slaughtered.”

  “I am not interes
ted in your opinion. I want to know whether or not you can prove that these women did not willingly participate in traveling to Faerie and the events that happened after their arrival. Can you, Miss Dubois?”

  “No,” she grudgingly admitted, “but it seems unlikely.”

  “Unlikely is not impossible, Madam Guardian. With the exception of Miss Thistlegoode, whom you claim to have found in our stronghold, none of these women were discovered in Faerie. How do you know that they were not murdered after they returned to London?” Iago asked.

  “The scenes where the bodies were found were not where the women were killed. There was no blood, and no evidence of a struggle. They had been clearly left there in an attempt to implicate the necromancers.”

  Iago smiled. “Aren’t blood drinkers the obvious suspects in this case? It is far more common for a master necromancer to go rogue and murder his prey than it is for a respectable family of faeries to enact the crimes you accuse them of.”

  “I witnessed the crimes of the Infernus clan firsthand. Do you question my word as a guardian?” Justine asked.

  The room had been filled with the whisper of beating wings and swishing tails, along with the quiet murmurs of commentary from the audience, but everything stilled at Justine’s words. Guardians were the servants of the higher powers, closer to the divine than any other beings on Earth or in Faerie. To question a guardian was near blasphemous, and everyone here knew it.

  Iago paused, his flaming hair dancing as though his thoughts added fuel to the fire. “I believe that it is possible that you may have misunderstood the things you witnessed, and as such could be drawing inaccurate conclusions.”

  It was a diplomatic answer. One that seemed to appease the crowd, for now, though judging by Justine’s frown she was not happy at all. Iago asked a few more questions, nothing scandalous, and Justine was excused. Much to my surprise, my name was called next.

  I clasped my hands tightly to hide any shaking, and sat primly in the seat, my posture straight and perfect. Horatio rose and approached me.

  “Mrs. Black, you are a seer, correct?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The weight of the room’s attention was suddenly heavy and oppressive. The faeries were likely as curious about me as I had been about them on my arrival. Seers are much rarer than faeries, so I would be something of a wonder to them. There was a story that in ancient times seers had been more prolific, revered as oracles and holding court in temples like the one at Delphi. It was pleasant to think that there had once been more of us, but now we were few, with only a handful scattered throughout the world.

  “Can you explain to the court what sort of abilities you possess, for those who are unfamiliar with a seer’s magic?”

  “Yes, of course,” I replied with a smart nod. “I am able to see magical energy, such as the magic within a magician’s aura, or the residue of a spell. This allows me to determine things such as whether the individual is telling the truth, or if he or she has a soul mate. By touching objects that have retained energy I can cause visions of the events that happened in the area, or events pertaining to the person who left the energy. I also have prophetic dreams.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Black. That is sufficient for now. Have you used your abilities to investigate criminal matters before?” Horatio asked.

  “Yes, I have. I was able to discover the murderer responsible for killing two people at Lord Willowbrook’s spring ball several years ago, where I first met Dr. Bennett.” I nodded in the doctor’s direction for emphasis. “I then used my abilities to aid in the location and capture of the culprit.”

  “Very good. Please describe the events of this investigation as you participated in it.”

  Nodding again, I began my story, careful to be as precise and accurate as possible. Horatio occasionally interrupted with a question, and I did my best to answer. The crowd seemed particularly interested in the tales of my dreams. I was certain that Helen could not have known of them, or she might have planned accordingly during her visit. They were also intrigued by my mention of Simon’s assault on the faerie; it appeared that his actions were as remarkable as I thought they were. I made a mental note to ask what sort of magic he had used to throttle her. It might come in handy before long.

  When Horatio finished his questions it was Iago’s turn to interrogate me. I eyed him with suspicion. Normally I would have attempted to examine his aura, but with this many faeries in attendance such an act would surely permanently blind me. I let my eyes slip shut for a moment and stretched out with my other senses as I had during our adventure in the Infernus stronghold. Though the clan appeared composed on the outside, their energy was a sea of icy fear. They were terrified. But they were also hopeful that they would be vindicated. I found that difficult to believe.

  “Mrs. Black,” Iago began. “Your abilities sound impressive indeed. I would like to ask a few more questions about your magic, if I may?” He turned his attention to the faerie council, and Lady Hippolyta nodded her assent. “Excellent. Can you tell us what you most often use your abilities for?”

  My cheeks heated with a blush, and I cleared my throat. “I use my abilities every day. I’m not certain what you are asking.”

  “You mentioned aiding in solving a murder years ago. Have there been no other crimes that you could have assisted in solving since then?”

  “I am sure other murders happened in England, but I was not present for them,” I replied.

  A titter of amusement giggled through the audience, but Iago did not appear amused. “Of course. Please tell the court what activity you spend the majority of your magic on.”

  “Because others in magician society have deemed it inappropriate for a woman to involve herself in the matter of criminal investigation, I have mainly been allowed to use my abilities in a matchmaking capacity.”

  “Inappropriate for a woman, or inappropriate for you in particular, Mrs. Black?” Iago asked.

  “Inappropriate for a woman. I believe that Miss Dubois has also encountered the same difficulties with her work as a guardian. As I was recently reminded, the magicians of our time have forgotten that the goddess was also a warrior in addition to her more domestic roles.”

  The assembled faeries grumbled in disapproval. Clearly they had no such issues with gender roles, considering that the entire council was composed of females.

  “I see. Have your visions ever been proven wrong?”

  “It does happen on occasion. Visions of the future can be unstable, because choices made each moment can change the course of events,” I explained.

  “So the visions that you claim to have had of Helen could be false?”

  “No. Those were visions of the present, not the future. The details may be different, such as the setting taking place in a forest instead of the Infernus stronghold, but the meaning behind them remains the same.”

  The faerie frowned in irritation. “But at first you believed those visions to be of a necromancer, not a faerie. How can you be certain that your initial impressions were not true?”

  “It is a feeling. When I come across some truths I have an overwhelming sense of certainty, as though the higher powers are confirming that I have found the right answer.”

  “So you claim to be under the influence of the higher powers?” Iago sniffed.

  “Yes, I suppose I do. My visions must have their origins somewhere, and I have, on occasion, felt a presence that I can only describe as divine.”

  “But you do agree that you can be mistaken in your interpretations.”

  “Of course. To err is human. But I do not believe that I am mistaken in this matter.”

  “No? You don’t feel that your opinions may be colored by the fact that your husband, your soul mate, is a blood drinker?”

  A gasp went through the room, and I sat up straighter, if such a thing were possible. “Michael is a chronicler, a member of the Order of St. Jerome who is responsible for recording magician history. It is a well-respected posi
tion.”

  “And you yourself have been approached with an offer to become a master necromancer, have you not?”

  “I declined that offer,” I replied.

  “So you aren’t ambitious to become a blood drinker yourself? Perhaps so ambitious that you would lie to protect them?”

  I barked a short laugh. “Clearly you know very little of seers. A seer is dedicated to the truth above all other things. When I aided in the investigation mentioned earlier at Lord Willowbrook’s ball, the murderer was a man who had sought my hand. He offered me wealth and power and everything I could ever want in exchange for helping him escape and proclaiming his innocence. I refused. And I can assure you, sir, that I have no ambition to become a chronicler or a master necromancer.”

  Of course my current ambition was to become something else entirely, but I kept that tidbit of information to myself.

  “But you do agree that it is within a blood drinker’s nature to lose control and kill the person he is feeding from, don’t you?” Iago asked.

  “Perhaps. However, it is not within the ability of a master necromancer or a chronicler to have transported Miss Thistlegoode to the Infernus stronghold. It is my understanding that the doors of Faerie are closed to their kind. That is true, isn’t it?” I asked, batting my lashes at my faerie interrogator.

  Scowling, he walked away to his desk. “I have no more questions for this witness.”

  I returned to my spot, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Dr. Bennett’s testimony came next, followed by a few other magicians who had witnessed Mr. Paris speaking with the other young victims at the poetry salon before they had gone missing. I wondered if Horatio had located these witnesses, or if Justine had spoken with them before.

  At the end of the testimonies it was declared that the gathering would break for now and return tomorrow with witnesses speaking on behalf of the Infernus clan. I hoped that we would be allowed to watch, for that promised to be quite interesting. Our group was returned to Miss Dubois’s parlor just as the clock struck the last chime of ten. It seemed strange that only three hours had passed, when it felt like many more.